


Colorless Ludwig Beilschmidt

by WeBetterRun



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentions of past abusive relationships, Multi, non-explicit reference to violence and death, rated for mentions of violence in the upcoming chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeBetterRun/pseuds/WeBetterRun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ludwig has never been an escapist, but sometimes things get a bit overwhelming even for the strongest of people. Having moved to another country, Ludwig hopes to start anew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Too Cliché

_Ludwig was writing and writing. Empty ballpoint pens scattered the surface of his desk and there were stacks of paper all over it. There was still even more on the floor! He was practically up to his knees in paper. His hand shook and his wrist hurt but he could not stop his hand from scribbling away. It was as if his hand had a life of its own. The room was stuffy and hot he noticed as a drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face and landed on the paper he, well, **his hand** was writing on. _

_Johann Sebastian Bach’s Air was playing from somewhere invisible to him. There was no source of music in this room, no CD player and no computer._

_Still the music filtered through the air and surrounded him. Something was off about this place, he could feel it. And even though he loved both this piece and Bach, the violins were getting on his nerves and the fact that he had a headache didn’t help at all. Shudders ran through his body and his upper lip was trembling. The pen grew heavy in his hand and he was practically dragging it across the paper._

_What time was it and how long had he been here? It felt like an eternity._

_The music gradually got louder and louder drowning the sound of pen on paper and the sound of his erratic breathing. The sound of violins turned into screams and the room got smaller and smaller…so small and…_

 

Ludwig’s eyes shot open as he woke up with a shout. He looked around frantically trying to take in his surroundings while simultaneously counting to ten to steady his breathing.

 

One…he was in bed.

Two…it was sunny.

Three…his head hurt.

Four…Where is he?

Five…The music’s still playing.

Six…and _Oh it’s the alarm, idiot._

 

 

 

His mind was a whirlpool of thoughts and nothing made sense and god did it hurt.

 

Turning off the alarm he sighed and let himself fall back to the bed.

 

“Fucking hell…”

 

He rubbed his eyes and yawned. His teeth hurt and so did his jaw, he must have been grinding his teeth while asleep, again. Bruxism, that’s what the therapist called it. His body was drenched in sweat and his throat was dry. Hair plastered against his sweaty forehead and the bright light hurting his eyes. He felt sticky and dirty.

 

“Oh god, not again. Please not again.” He murmured and squeezed his eyes shut wishing there was a way to make his brain stop dwelling.

 

He’d thought he was over this,

 

Forcing himself to sit upright, he looked over to the now silent alarm clock. The numbers stared at him almost mockingly, 7:03. Ludwig took a deep breath and got up ignoring the screams of protest of his biological clock and basically every cell in his body.

 

He was jetlagged. It’s been almost a week and he still hasn't adapted to the time difference. He hoped a bit of fresh air would make him feel better, it was Sunday after all and he had all day to stroll around the city.

 

Having gotten showered and ready he headed out and mistakenly caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror near the front door. Up until then he had avoided looking at his face directly; it wasn't a sight that he liked. Not now, at least. He had lost a lot of weight and his jaw looked more prominent and his cheeks were hollow. He wouldn't have usually minded this but now it just made his eyes look more sunken and tired. His face looked ghostly pale as well. Yeah, a bit of Italian sun wouldn't hurt, he thought to himself.

 

The ancient city of Rome was beautiful; quaint and charming, it was a big jump from busy, bustling New York, of course, but it was exactly what he needed at the moment. That and his morning fix of coffee, and so he headed to what he later decided was his favourite café. This café was a family owned business, a bit on the small size but it was clean, cozy and they had an excellent selection of coffee. Ludwig disliked corporate coffee houses. Their coffee was tasteless and overly-priced. He didn't mind paying a lot for a good cup of coffee, though.

 

The café was almost empty much to his pleasure. Italians, he’d learned, were not ones for getting up early and especially on Sundays. Ludwig chose a small table outside and opened the paperback book he brought along, However, he was interrupted by what he guessed was a cheerful salute in Italian.

 

“Buongiorno, signore! Che cosa posso ottenere?” chirped the waiter.

 

Ludwig studied the young man, he had auburn hair and an annoyingly wide grin plastered to his face. It was sunny and the guy was squinting, he looked half asleep.

 

“Signore?” repeated the Italian.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you…uh, speak English?” Ludwig asked, he hoped to god the answer would be yes because he had a headache and honestly the last thing he wanted to do was spend five minutes trying to explain to the waiter what to get him. It had only been a week since he’d been here and his Italian language course hadn’t even started.

 

“Si!! I mean, yes.” Nodded the waiter eagerly. “What can I get you sir?” Ludwig ordered a double espresso and a bombolne, which is a kind of pastry that is very similar to filled doughnuts. He watched as the waiter scurried away happily. Ludwig couldn’t decide whether he liked Italians or not yet. They were a lot different than Germans and Americans. Of course he encountered a lot of American Italians back in New York but they were different as well.

 

Picking up the book again he started reading, the sun wasn’t hot and it was pleasant, soft guitar music danced all around him and the morning breeze gently played with the pages of the book. He liked the title of the book. _[Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colorless_Tsukuru_Tazaki_and_His_Years_of_Pilgrimage)_ , by the Japanese Author Haruki Murakami, one of Ludwig’s favourite authors. Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki…what does it mean to be colorless? He wondered. Ludwig shook his head; it was too early for this.

 

Five minutes later, the waiter was back with his order; he thanked him politely and looked at his breakfast. Not even the best café in New York could compete with this, he thought as he devoured the pastry and sipped on his espresso. Ludwig couldn’t decide whether it was the food or the fresh air but he concluded that he was feeling much better. He then drew a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. He was not proud of himself for smoking; it was a habit that he had picked up while in New York, but in his defense, he did try to quit a couple of times.

 

As he inhaled the smoke, he thanked his lucky stars that he had ended up here. He could have ended somewhere much worse. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what would have happened if he’d been transferred to one of the Scandinavian counties that some of his colleagues got transferred to. Long nights and gloomy weather would have killed him. Come to think of it, he didn’t even miss New York all that much. The only thing he missed about it was the anonymity of being a part of a big crowd. There, you went unseen and unnoticed.

 

A cough interrupted his stream of thoughts so he looked up to find the waiter standing there with his hand extended toward him. In the palm of his hand rested a…mint?

 

“It’s a mint! Take it, sir.” Said the waiter smiling down at him. “Uh, thanks.” Muttered Ludwig as he hesitantly took the mint and did his best to smile back at the young man.

 

“Hope you liked your bombolne! You see, my brother bakes the pastry here. He likes to make us think that he doesn’t care what other people think of his baking but we all know he secretly loves it when someone compliments him.” The waiter giggled and then tilted his head and studied the still baffled Ludwig.

 

“America?” asked the waiter.

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Do all Italians sound this good while speaking English? Wondered the German.

 

“Are you from America, sir?” repeated the Italian with his head still tilted to the side.

 

“Oh, no, I’m actually German.” Ludwig smiled.

 

“But your English is so good!” Exclaimed the brunette making Ludwig blush.

 

“Uh, thank you?” The German kicked himself mentally for being such an awkward person, and then he cleared his throat and said “I used to live in New York.”

 

“Ah! La Nuova York!” The Italian’s eyes sparked with curiosity as he babbled on and on about how he would love to go there some day and all the things that he would do. Ludwig just nodded and thought how he should probably work on his conversational skills if he planned to keep up with the Italians.

 

A couple sat on the table opposite the German. The woman had a beautiful bunch of yellow daffodils with her, she looked happy as they held hands over the table.

 

 The waiter looked over to them, and stopping himself mid-sentence he wished Ludwig a good day and excused himself. “Right about time.” Thought the German. His headache was coming back, he could feel it. He massaged his temples and cursed the way his hands had started shaking. That hadn’t happened in a long time. He hoped it was just fatigue. Ludwig got up and made his way to the counter, paid for his order and walked home.

 

It was the goddamned dream, it made him all uneasy. He had avoided thinking about it through out the day but now as he sat on the couch, beer in hand and his phone in the other, he couldn’t escape it. He could never forget the feeling of the room closing in on him. Just thinking about it made his heart pick up its pace.

 

Should he call his therapist?

 

Gilbert?

 

No, he’d just go to bed.


	2. Warmth

Nightmares haunted him for the next couple of days. Ludwig was so tired of it that he actually swallowed a couple of sleeping pills one night, which didn’t work, much to his disappointment.

 

It was as if his past was clinging to him, it was suffocating him and the only time he felt himself relax was when he was at work and at that café where he spent most of his evenings reading.

 

It was a particularly bad morning; he’d woken up 3 hours earlier than he had to, and he had nothing to do. He was out of books to read and didn’t exactly feel like turning on the TV. A cigarette sounded very appealing and so he reached for the pack of cigarettes that was in the pocket of his cardigan. With the pack he also found the mint that friendly waiter had given him the other day. It made him smile. He was a regular at that café by now, and he loved how at ease being there made him feel. That young Italian waiter was always so eager to strike up conversations with him, and man does he talk a lot. At first he’d found it extremely annoying but over time he’d decided it felt good. The Italians weren’t judgmental people and all the awkwardness you’d usually feel talking to people would disappear when you talked to an Italian. Ludwig was sure there were exceptions but in general that was the case.

 

Ludwig hated smoking indoors and especially in his newly-furnished apartment so he made his way to the small balcony just outside his bedroom. The Italian scenery still managed to take his breath away and ease his mind. It was still dark and the sky was clear and the stars shone brightly. It was quiet, the only sound coming from a drunken couple stumbling down the paved street laughing and singing which reminded him of Germany and Gilbert. He was homesick, that was a fact that he couldn’t deny, but at the same time Germany evoked in him nothing but happy thoughts and memories. It was true he loved to travel the world, but his one sole wish was to be buried back home.

 

 ****

It was well into the day when his phone vibrated in his pocket, fishing it out he stared at the name on the screen.

 

Gilbert?

Ludwig looked around him anxiously, everyone was out on lunch break and he, not feeling particularly hungry as was the case these last couple of days, was left alone in the office.

 

“Ja?” He answered carefully.

 

“Ludwig? Brother! How are you?” Came the sound of Gilbert nearly shouting. “How’s Italy? How’s the beer there? How are Italian wom…” Ludwig interrupted him “Gilbert, Gilbert, please. Do you really have to shout? I am fine, don’t worry about me. Italy’s nice, really. I like the weather and architecture. What’s more important is how are you doing? Oh and congratulations on the win! I didn’t watch the match but heard it was pretty good.” It felt weird speaking German, he’d only spoken English for a long time. It felt foreign yet incredibly good.

 

Gilbert was his older brother; a professional footballer who played in the 1.Bundesliga, which is Germany's primary football competition. He was quite the hotshot, really. They talked briefly about the match and their mutual friends with Gilbert telling him all of these embarrassing stories about their snotty Austrian cousin, whom they both loved but constantly made fun of. Ludwig assured him that his job was fine and that he will be visiting him during Christmas holidays. Saying their goodbyes they both wished each other luck and promised to take care of themselves.

 

“Oh, and Ludwig? I’m proud of you.” Said Gilbert matter-of-factly, which caught Ludwig off guard making him stumble on his thanks and hurry to hang up.

 

Sitting back in his chair, Ludwig eyed the phone in his hand and smiled.

 

 _Damn you Gilbert._  

 

 

****

 

 

_Two days later..._

 

 

“You know, signore, melancholy doesn’t suit you.”

 

It was another beautiful Sunday morning, a bit on the chilly side now that it was almost autumn but the sun was brilliant. It had been a very quiet morning until now.

 

Startled, Ludwig looked up to see the young waiter smiling at him. Feliciano, as his nametag read, was holding a big bowl of salad, which he set gracefully on Ludwig’s table.

 

“One Antipasto salad for you sir, because you look like you need it.” Feliciano said happily. “It’s on the house!”

 

The German scoffed. What did he mean he looked like he needed it?

 

“I mean look at you! You’re all pale. You even look like you’ve lost weight since you’ve started coming here.” Explained the Italian, gesturing in Ludwig’s general direction, who now looked like a deer caught in the headlights more than anything else.

 

“I…” The German didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. But he couldn’t muster up any bad notions regarding the Italian’s comments. He was too good-natured and he sure didn’t mean to insult him.

 

“I guess I do.” Said Ludwig finally somewhat dejectedly, then smiling up weakly at the waiter he thanked him for the salad and assured him that he would be paying for it.

 

“What part of ‘On the house’ don’t you understand?” Feliciano grinned and took the seat in front of the now bewildered German. “How could you live in such a place and still be sad?” A very gentle and fond smile decorated the Italian’s face. It was very easy to see how much he loved this city.

 

“You know something? I still haven’t gone sightseeing yet, would you like to accompany me? Show me around maybe?” Suggested the German.

 

The ever so enthusiastic Feliciano nodded furiously.

 

 “Certamente! Absolutely!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not hesitate to leave me a comment/advice/critique. Anything really in the shape of feedback. <3
> 
> And again, thank you Tini for beta reading!! (forever grateful)


	3. Marble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this chapter is so (unbelievably) short but I had to get it over with.

It was a Saturday, not exactly the best time to go sightseeing but it was the only day off for both Ludwig and Feliciano. Hoards of tourists flooded the streets, all smiling faces and wide bewildered eyes. Feliciano held a small picnic basket that was filled with light sandwiches and pastry. It was a nice gesture Ludwig had told him but the Italian just dismissed it to the fact the he did not trust other people’s cooking.

 

After having visited the Colosseum Feliciano insisted that they would have breakfast before going anywhere else. “For energy!” he exclaimed enthusiastically as he patted the wood bench signaling the German to sit.

 

“Say, Ludwig, why did you choose to become an engineer?” Feliciano questioned with his mouth full.

 

“Well,” said Ludwig, “In high school, my guidance counselor advised me to pursue a career in either engineering or architecture, after thinking it over I decided engineering would be the obvious choice. It is true that architecture appealed to me more at the time but I kind of figured out that I’m not quite cut for it.” Looking up at Feliciano he gave him a soft smile.

 

“Not quite cut for it?” Said the Italian cocking his head as if not fully grasping the meaning of the sentence. “I’ve always thought engineering and architecture are one and the same!”

 

Nodding, the German explained, “You see, architects and engineers often approach projects from very different perspectives. An architect is focused on designing and constructing the form, space and ambiance of buildings and other physical environments, while an engineer ensures that the design will work by applying scientific principles.”   

 

“Oh, I see! So, if we were to apply this idea to high school, engineers would be in the physics and maths club and architects would be in the art club. No?” Feliciano looked up at Ludwig expectantly.

 

The German shook his head and laughed, “Yeah, something like that.”

 

They both had finished eating and now were staring up at the sky; Ludwig smiled to himself, carefree and content. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how old are you, Feliciano?” he said still looking up.

 

“I’m almost 24 years old. Lovino, my brother is one year older than I am.” Said Feliciano.

 

“The one who likes to be complimented but does not show it?” Ludwig asked while laughing.

 

Feliciano turned his gaze to the blond sitting beside him and exclaimed; “You remembered!”

 

Shooting the Italian an amused look, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “It just reminded me of my own brother.” Ludwig explained waving it off. “And by that I don’t mean that he’s like your brother, he’s quite the opposite. His name is Gilbert, and you see, he feeds off compliments. If you compliment him he will probably just nod and agree with you.” The blond threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve never seen anything as big as that man’s ego.”

 

Feliciano, a heap of giggles now, decided that he would love to meet this brother of Ludwig someday.

 

 ~~~~~~~~

 

Standing in front of the 26.3 meters high fountain, stood a slack-jawed, wide-eyed German. No words could ever give this sight justice. A proud smile rose to Feliciano’s face as he watched Ludwig take big deep breath and shake his head.

 

“Feliciano, I’m afraid I’m at loss for words.” Stated the blond as his hand reached for the digital camera in his pocket, eyes still glued to the fountain.

 

“It’s okay, I’ll do the talking!” chirped the energetic Italian as he took hold of Ludwig’s arm and dragged him closer to the fountain. “Fontana di Trevi! One of the most famous fountains in the world! See that statue? That’s Oceanus, or Ocean, he is the personification of an immense river that flows around the earth and from which all streams of water derive. He is carried on his chariot by two horses.” Ludwig nodded slowly and furrowed his brows listening attentively. “One is restless and the other is calm which reflects the two moods of the sea, the calm horse represents tranquility of the sea and the restless horse is a symbol of the violent strength of the sea. Pretty amazing, right?”

 

“Indeed!” replied Ludwig as he snapped yet another picture of the fountain. What struck him most was the Italian’s enthusiasm which rivaled that of any tourist guide.

 

“If you ask me, this fountain puts all the others to shame! It has just been restored and now it looks more glorious than ever!” Feliciano explained, arms flailing and that proud smile still in place. “Are you the superstitious type, Ludwig? Actually, no. Scratch that.” Laughed the Italian. “You don’t look it.”

 

“That’s true, for someone who relies on facts and scientific evidence I find it hard to believe in myths and superstitions.” Smiled Ludwig. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the beauty of the myths, I just don’t believe in them.”

 

“Ah I see! You’re a very curious man, Ludwig.” Feliciano stated as he skipped to a figure that was huddled in a corner, a beggar, and dropped a coin into the extended palm.

 

 _I can say the same thing about you_ , thought the German.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Tini for BETAing. <3


End file.
